Returning the favor
by Pursnikitie
Summary: Holding up a 200 pound wall of pure muscle in a pool for over two hours is not a walk in the park Stiles finds as she gets home, sore and aching. She didn't even get a thank you, not that she was expecting one. She wasn't expecting anything actually so when she gets out of the shower to find Derek Hale creeping in her room she's, well she's defiantly not lost for words. FEM!Stiles


**Disclaimer:** I do not own teen wolf, please don't sue. I am poor.

**A/N:** This is a FEM!Stiles story. Not because I prefer FEM!Stiles but because I thought it would be funny to put a female Stiles in awkward situations with Derek. This is just a stupid little thing I wrote in between working on an actual real, Derek/Stiles thing I'm working on. So yeah I hope you enjoy please review, and let me know what you think, good or bad. Also, I have this cross posted on my Tumblr. Under the same name, swing by if you wish.

**Returning the favor**

Stiles was sore, but not sore like she'd just finished lacrosse practice. Oh no, because that would be normal, and welcome. She was sore like she'd just held a 200 hundred pound grumpy piece of pure muscle above water for over two hours. Her muscles and bones, and hell every fibre of her being ached and each and every movement made her feel like she was on fire. She could barely move as she shuffled out of her jeep and up to the porch. A hiss escaped her lips every time one foot had to move in front of the other to get up the steps and to her front door.

Her shoes came off with a gross squishing noise and her track suit was dripping all over the floor. Seriously what was her life? She'd like to know, really she would. The climb up her stairs and into her bedroom took much longer than it should have. All the while cursing the kanima, Derek and even Scott.

"Stupid Sour wolf, stupid trust issues. Oh, yeah, totally held you a float in a pool for over two hours just because I needed you to fight the kanima. Yeah that's all it was. Its not like I'm a decent person who would actually feel bad if you died. No, nothing like that at all." Stiles ranted as she pulled a shirt and underwear from her dresser, then made her way through the hall and into the bathroom.

It felt good to peel the soaking wet clothes from her body, they were cold and heavy and she could feel herself shivering. Great, just great she'd probably sick fro this as well. That'll be fun. After turning the shower on she let it run for a few minutes so it could get hot.

Stiles had finished washing after the first 10 minutes but just stood under the cascading water until it was barely luke warm. After patting herself dry she threw on her clothes and put her shoulder length dark brown hair into a messy bun. She brushed her teeth, and put her dirty clothes into the hamper and made her way into her bedroom still grumbling about ungrateful werewolves.

"Couldn't even say thank you. I mean is that so hard? Its two words, two syllables. I would have taken a thanks, or even a nod of acknowledgement. But no, I get his stupid scowlly scowl face that says 'Stiles you're lucky there's people around or I'd be beating your face off a concrete surface, repeatedly, until you die.' Me big strong werewolf made of pure sex and muscle. You puny human female." she drummed on her chest without any force as she walked into her bedroom. "You useless. Stay out of way."

She flicked on her light and if she was was capable of such movements she would have jumped 10 feet in the air and let out a shriek. Stiles opted instead for a surprise squeak and a slur of swears so colorful that sailors would blush. "What are you doing here? Can't I have, like, a couple of hours of rest before something else terrible happens?"

Derek was sitting in the chair that was placed in the corner of the room. His bitch face was turned all the way up to eleven as he eyes Stiles. And she meant _eyed_, with like roaming up and down. It was, unnerving to say the least, because even with the bitch face no one had ever gave her that _look. _It was kind of, okay it was really, hot. She could feel her cheeks flushing, which she wouldn't be able to hide because of her painfully pale skin. They were locked in a quasi staring match when she finally looked down to see why he was looking at her.

"Ohmygod!" Her hands flailed helplessly as she took in exactly what she was wearing. The t-shirt was very form fitting with a low scoop neck, it was black and scrawled across her chest in a glittery silver were the words 'House of wolves'. And pants? She didn't have the luxury of pants! No she was wearing pink boy short underwear with little blue dogs on them. Not sexy, Not sexy at all. Dear god. "This is mortifying." Stiles cried out attempting, and failing, to pull the shirt down to cover herself. "Oh my sweet baby Jesus in a hand basket! Would you quit looking at me? I'm too tired and sore, and embarrassed to help you with anything else tonight! Go find Scott, or one of your betas! I-I mean really, you just can't like... I'm pretty sure my window was locked... how did you even..."

"Me big strong werewolf." Derek cut her off mid-rant with a gruff impression.

"You.. you heard that? How long have you been in here? Oh my god you're such a creeper. You're an actual creeper and you're going to kill me aren't you? This is how I die! Exhausted and mortified and in my _underwear_!" She emphasized the last word so it would sink in. "Can I at least put pants." 'and maybe a bra.' she added mentally. "On? Can that be my last request? Pants? Please?"

Derek was standing in front of her now, and when did he even move from the chair? Damn werewolves and their damn ability to teleport, or some shit. "No." He was making a face that screamed 'Oh my fuck, you're an idiot. I would rather be mauled by a bear than be in the same room with you.' His face was very expressive like that when it came to Stiles. Her mouth hung open at his reply, seemingly lost for words, and now his eyebrows were doing this thing. She couldn't even explain if she tried. Who even was he? Having emotive eyebrows? Who does that?

"What? No? Seriously? You do realize this is weird right? Like you know I'm a girl, and I don't just have guys in my room. While I'm in my underwear." She let out an exasperated sigh. "Like I might as well just be a guy. Really. This would be so much less weird if I was." It really wouldn't. Her heart was thumping like crazy in her chest and it was getting harder, and harder to breath.

"Just get on your bed and lie down." He rolled his eyes. He was always rolling his eyes at her. Like she was a nuisance, a side affect of Scott becoming a werewolf. If he wanted Scott as part of his pack Stiles would be there. An outsider. Not a member, not a guest... just _there. _When Stiles didn't move towards the bed, his eyebrows seemed to conspire against her as they moved up his forehead.

"Oh my shit. _Fine_! Jesus, Derek. Put your eyebrows away before they hurt somebody." Stiles sat on her bed. She knew he could sense her nervousness, her anger ad feel her heartbeat practically bursting from her chest. She was hoping however that he didn't notice how aroused she was. "Happy now? I'm on the bed. Why are you here?" Stiles grabbed at her blankets to cover herself.

Derek's hand clasping around her wrist stopped that though. "I said lie down." Right. Of course he did. If her body weren't sore, if it weren't so just done with everything, it would have been shaking as she lied down. She would probably be having full on convulsions when she felt his weight shift on to the bed beside her. His hip pressing against her thigh as she sat. His skin hot through the fabric of his jeans.

His hands, holy shit his hands took hold of one of her ankles to spread her legs apart. She was pretty sure she was going into cardiac arrest. This is her life. Her wet dream is seemingly coming true and she's going to die before anything happens. "I'm not going to-"

"I know." Stiles cut him off. "I trust you." and the thing was, she did. You don't have a relationship built on mutual life saving and not trust that person. At least a little bit, on her side anyway. It may have held a bit of venom in it as she said it but at least now it was out there. Grudgingly she accepted that it wasn't the same for him, but whatever. That's her life.

Her words must have thrown the alpha werewolf off because he was staring again, all intense and frowning. Derek wasn't moving and his hands were still on her lower leg. "And I get that you don't trust me. But I really can't believe that you think I was only doing that so you could fight the kanima.I mean really dude. That's just low. I would have done it even if you were just a sour faced, creeper, asshole human that was just as fragile and pathetic as me." She had propped herself up on her elbows so she could glare at him properly. Though she knew it wasn't near as impressive or intimidating as one of his. "And I'll do it again too. I'll complain and grumble the entire time, but I'll still help."

"Why?" It was like he really couldn't understand what she was saying. Couldn't grasp the concept of an act of kindness. The face he was making was a jumble of confusion and annoyance.

"Because I don't actually want you to die, stupid. Obviously."

His hands were moving now sliding to Stiles calf and his fingers started kneading at the muscle. Pushing and pulling, and Oh God! It hurt so bad, but felt so, so good. He had magic hands, they were made of pure unadulterated mysticism and pain relieving voodoo. She would marry his hands. Marry them and have their beautiful stupid sour-faced babies, and _Ohmygod! _They were moving up to her thigh and shit, shit, how is he even real? Was this a dream because holy shit, shit, shit! How was this even happening? Nobody that good looking should even be touching her like this platonic or otherwise.

"Stiles," Derek's voice was gruffer than usual and it came out in a huffed rasp, "Do you ever shut up?"

"I wasn't saying anything." Her hands were bunched and pulling into her sheets. "I haven't said anything... I wasn't saying anything... tell me I wasn't saying that all out loud."

He didn't answer her. Oh fuck-nuggets! She really did say that all out loud. Shit, shitty, shit, shit, shit, shit. Her breathing hitched in her chest because he wasn't stopping just moving further up her leg getting up there in the inappropriate touching territory as his fingers brushed against the hem of her underwear. Stiles took a deep breath as his hands continued up just slightly. Her exhale was caught in her throat waiting for his next move, and when he made it, it was just to go to her other leg.

Fuuuuck. Fuck her life. She let out the breath she was holding and definitely didn't let out a grunt of frustration. Nope, didn't do that at all. She was cool as a cucumber. He made his way to her arms and she was pretty sure that she let out string after string of rambles. She couldn't be sure but by the slight curve of his mouth, the way he was trying so hard not to smirk, that yes she was going on about his stupid magic hands again. He didn't comment this time though so he must have just taken it for the compliment that it was.

"Turn around."

"What?"

"Lie on your stomach." He was rolling his eyes again. In a way that said 'Dear god you're stupid, why do I even bother?' Stiles obeyed. She wasn't passing up the chance for more arcane handed goodness.

"What are you doing?" Stiles didn't squeak. She didn't, as she felt Derek's weight shifting on the bed and a weight rested on the back of her legs.

"Getting a better angle."

She had a smart comment for that. She really, really did but when Stiles opened her mouth his large hands slid under the back of her shirt. And okay, yeah that time she definitely squeaked. Her face was buried in the pillow because she couldn't trust her mouth or her brain. She talked into the pillow so her words just came out in muffled moans and groans of relieved pressure. Derek's hands slid up her back and slowly trailed down her spine. Stiles was finding it harder and harder to breath and it wasn't just from suffocating herself with the pillow.

His hands ghosted over her skin as he pushed her shirt up and out of his way. Stiles face was red and she was pretty sure it would stay that way forever. "Oh my fuck... Derek... just fuck." The words were flowing out and she couldn't stop them. "You're so... you're so..." He leaned over so his body was trapping her under him. The shift in his weight ended up with something hard pressing against her. _Ohmyfuckinggod _is that what she thought it was? His hips shifted, Yup! That is exactly what she thought it was. It twitched through the fabric and Stiles let out a surprised gasp.

"I'm so what?" He all but growled into her ear, his hot breath sent shivers down Stiles spine.

"Confusing." She turned her head so she could look at him. The whole time his hands never stopped and she really was having trouble focusing but the look on his face kept her transfixed. He looked younger and less haunted, like he didn't have the weight of the world on his shoulders. There was something else, something she couldn't quite place but it gave her a feeling in the pit of her stomach. It filled her with want and need, which was both terrifying and comforting. "Why? Why are you doing this? A simple thanks would have been enough."

His face hardened again back to his usual default scowl. Stiles internally cursed herself for looking this gift wolf in the mouth. Why couldn't she just leave good enough alone? Why did she have to question everything? His hands started to lift from her skin as he stopped massaging. "No, don't stop." The words left her mouth in a hurried whisper. "Please. Don't stop." The teens hands were bunched into her sheets and the way his eyes bore into hers she felt like she should look away, she wanted to hide in her pillow. Forever. What was her life?

Derek's hands grazed against her back resuming their pain relieving ways. They were still looking at one another, eyes not able to tear apart. Which was stupid of her. Wasn't this challenging the alpha? Shouldn't he be trying to rip her apart for this kind of thing? His hands slid down brushing against the sides of her breasts. The sound that came out of her mouth was foreign to her ears but Derek's pupils dilated and she saw red begin leaking into them.

"What the hell is going on in here?!" Sheriff Stilinski's voice rang through her bedroom. She could feel Derek's body tense as his hands quickly pulled her shirt down. He was standing in the doorway, hand hovering ever so close to the gun on his hip.

"It's not what it looks like!" Stiles eyes were wide and her arms flailed helplessly as she tried to scramble into a sitting position. The werewolf closed his eyes and slowly removed himself from over the teen, hands placed strategically over his lap.

"Why don't you tell me what it doesn't look like then?" The sheriff stepped further into the room. "Because to me it looked and sounded like my underage daughter was in the process of having sex with a very not underage murder suspect."

"He was exonerated." Stiles corrected before hastily adding. "And we were definitely not doing what you thought. Like at all. Not even close Dad, really. I mean could you imagine someone who looks like that (She motioned to all of Derek) with someone who looks like me? Seriously, Derek doesn't even like me... okay? He can barely stand being in the same room with me so-"

"That's not what it looked like from where I was standing." Mr. Stilinski interrupted through gritted teeth.

"It was a massage Dad! I mean it! That's it! I helped Derek out earlier, begrudgingly, I should add and as a thank you he was giving me a massage because I was sore from an exceptionally rough Lacrosse practice."

"Sir," Derek started.

"No! I'm not talking to you yet, Son."

"Dad, seriously, trust me. I promise that its not what you think. Derek wasn't doing anything wrong, or illegal, or amoral."

"Well then why aren't you wearing pants Stiles? Dammit! I want to believe you, I do. You're my daughter, and I love you but you're not making it easy for me to trust you." He was pinching the bridge of his nose. It was obvious that he was trying to force back a headache long enough to deal with Stiles, deal with the disappointment that was his daughter.

"Dad... I swear." She looked over to Derek whose face was unreadable. "He can give you a massage too. I mean you're always stressed. I'm sure you could use one. Right? See how not sex it was?" She reached out to touch the shirt around Derek's bicep. "Right Derek? You can give him a massage? Show its all legit, that everything's on the up and up? "

Stiles looked pleadingly between the two men, Derek's scowl turning into what could only be described as abject horror. His eyes were bugged out and his eyebrows had somehow managed to almost crawl off his face. Her father's expression mirrored that and it looked like an all around no for Stiles idea. "I was just throwing out ideas. It' a no, I get it. But I don't see either of you saying anything!"

The sheriff took in a deep breath and exhaled through his nose. "I brought home some Chinese-Don't you give me that look. I'll be eating whatever I want tonight- I expect you downstairs in five minutes. Both of you." He turned around taking the few steps towards the door. "And for God's sake Stiles, put on some pants!"

They waited until his footsteps reached the bottom of the stairs before both of them jumped from the bed. Stiles to grab herself some pants, and Derek to slide on his shoes, and jacket before hurrying to the window. "Oh, no, no, no, no. You cannot just disappear out the window. That will make everything worse and if you don't want to stay and eat that's fine but you have to at least use the front door."

Derek turned to face her, hands clenched into fists and nostrils flaring. "_Fine_." He spit out. Great they were right back where they started.

"Also, what the hell? How did you not hear him coming? How did my dad sneak up on you? You have super werewolf hearing and my Dad got the drop on you. What the hell was that?" She grabbed the red hoodie off her floor and pulled it on, zipping it up all the way.

"I was distracted."

"Yeah, well... we're royally fucked here Sour wolf. Seriously. And not in like a good way. A shitty, shitty, shitty way that involves a lot of shit."

"You're five minutes are up!" John Stilinski yelled from downstairs. Stiles let out an agitated sigh before grabbing onto Derek's sleeve.

"Let's just get this over with." She said pulling the alpha werewolf into the hallway and down the stairs. If she was going down there was no way in hell she was going down alone. For the thousandth time that night she thought: How is this my life?


End file.
